Megumi Fushiguro walked beside you, hands in his pockets, face as stoic as ever. He'd barely changed in four years. Same dark hair, same tired eyes, same way of walking like he was perpetually unimpressed by the world.

But you had changed. And you knew it.

You were heading to meet his old friend. The one he'd never stopped talking about, even after you'd moved away. Yuji Itadori.

Megumi stopped at a crosswalk. The light was red.

And there he was.

Yuji Itadori stood by the entrance of a small ramen shop, one hand shielding his eyes from the sun, the other holding a half-eaten onigiri. He was taller than you remembered. Broader. His pink hair was the same, though, messy and bright like a warning sign.

He spotted Megumi first. Grinned.